Through time, space and fiction
by TigrouAngel
Summary: A Dark Angel fan finds herself in Seattle, 2019. How will she influence the life of Max & Logan? AU, S1, ML of course! and now officially AURLCO approved
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: James Cameron and that Eglee guy, not me.

A/N: Thanks to Shywr1ter for betaing and encouraging words!!! I know, the prologue is very, very short... The next chapter will be longer, I promise. This is just to introduce the general idea: I would love to create a nice, long fic, writing about every S1 fan's fantasy: to enter DA and beat some common sense into Max and Logan ...or not...

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**Through time, space and fiction**

Prologue

I am on the bus back home, as always listening to music on my i-pod, as always reading and, of course, deep in thought I know the way by heart and when the bus stops at my station, I get up without stopping my reading or even thinking about it, too engrossed in my book.

The first thing I notice is the smell. Or better, the lack of smell. My street is one of the town's busiest, especially during rush-hour. Emissions and the smell of petrol are a constant fact of life here. But now, the air is clean. More than that, it even smells like a grocery. I look up. And I don't believe my eyes.

The old colorful houses of my medieval Bavarian town have been replaced by some kind of outdoor hall with grey pavement, dirt puddles and little stalls, filled with garbage and at least 500 people. I am surrounded by men and women, some children and, in the distance, I can spot heavily armed policemen. Vendors are selling vegetables, fruits and meat. Everything looks neglected, people as well as buildings, and yet - I suddenly realize that I've stopped breathing and take a deep breath- the air is cleaner. The oxygen clears my head and I frantically pull the i-pod speakers out of my ears. The sounds are overwhelming. The noise of a city, without a doubt. Hectic voices. With a shiver I realize these people next to me are speaking English.

Someone pushes my back and I stumble. As I look back up, I see the huge steel letters hanging from the roof. SOUTHMARKET.

That moment, I know that I am in Seattle. And that it is not the year 2007 anymore.

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	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: Dark Angel belongs to James Cameron, Charles Eglee and probably FOX. Nevertheless, they don't deserve it.

A/N: You guys gave me a hard time voting for Sketchy. I tried my best to make this chapter work and hope you like it.

Thanks to Shywr1ter for betaing (I owe you!), Lisa0316 for encouragement and many laughs and all the wonderful people at Dark Angel Reflections who voted. In future chapters, Mari, you'll get your dinosaurs and we will get a poll for a naked Logan...

**Through time, space and fiction - Chapter One **

"I am in Dark Angel."

After so many years of fandom, staying awake until 3:50 a.m. to tape the 5 minutes I missed the previous evening, reading tons of fanfiction, buying the DVDs and watching all of them in three days, there can be no doubt about it.

_I am in Dark Angel and this is South Market, Seattle in the year 2020. Or 2021? Oh my God, please, don't let me be in Season Two._

The people around me don't seem to notice me, although my clothes are colorful and more expensive than theirs._ Maybe I am invisible? Being invisible, that would be awful. I have to find Max and Logan_. I look around

_That is the wonderful thing about being a TV addict, no matter what strange things happen to you, like being attacked by aliens or fighting vampires or even entering your favorite TV-show, all of it seems to be completely natural and nothing to worry about...Now think, girl, think... You are in a foreign country, a different reality and have no sector passes, ID, money, job... maybe you should start to be worried!... I have to find Max and Logan. If I find them, everything will be fine and... please, oh Lord, don't let me be in Season Two._

I shudder at the thought of facing Alec and that terrible creature. _What was the name? Ah yes, Asha._

While I just stand there talking to myself, among the dirt and the puddles of an officially non-existent Seattle, I suddenly realize why the air is that clean. _Of course. They have had a continuing gas shortage for a decade. Who can afford to cruise, but maybe the Cale family and the police? Fewer emissions and less fumes._  
I take another deep breath. The calming effect is the same as before. _But how are you going to find them, if the sector cops control the entrance to South Market? Did you forget about the "no sector pass, no ID"-thing, stupid? _

That very moment, I spot an angel in the crowd.

His hair is greasy, is skin is greasy, his taste in clothes is as awful as his behavior when drunk, but I don't think that I have ever been more thankful to see someone than I am now, seeing the Jam Pony messenger riding his bike just three stalls away. "SKETCHY!"  
The word is still lingering in the air as I realize that it was I who shouted it. Let's face it folks, this was a cry for help. "Still, undeniably stupid to draw attention in such a situation", I admonish myself.

Sketchy did obviously hear me and is now crossing the short distance between us, a curious expression on his face.

"Should I know you, lady?" _Yippee, I'm not invisible_!

"You don't remember me?" _And I think I have a plan_.

"Mmmm, nope." _He is nervous. Great_.

"Seriously, man. We made out at Crash. About two weeks ago!" _If there is someone divine watching over me, Sketchy will react like a typical male_.

"Uhh, of course, eh... honey. Sorry 'bout that, you look so different by daylight. Still great, I mean. You look great..."_ Men. Know one and you know them all_.

Thanking every deity ever worshipped by mankind, I try to collect myself. Now, things could become complicated. I have to get out of South Market and don't think I can do so on my own.

"Sketchy, love, could you help me, please? I need to contact that friend of yours. Her name is Sam... or Alex... something very boyish? Pretty, with dark hair?"

"Oh, Max. Her name's Max. Hmn." _He is still uncomfortable. And those huge shades make him look like the frogman.The shades! _I take a closer look at him. His usually pale cheeks are crimson red and his forehead beneath the ridiculous shades is chalk white. My heart jumps._ I'm in "411 on the DL" or a short time after. Oh, that is wonderful_!

"Well, after we had made out and you had thrown up all over my shirt, she gave me her jacket. Don't you remember? I'd like to return it." I give him my brightest smile. The poor boy is confused, but I'm sure it's not the first - and definitely not the last - time he has to face the consequences of not being able to stop. I hate the thought of having my future and safety in his unreliable hands, as I remember vividly what happened to the Norman Rockwell painting, but at the very moment I don't have a choice.

"Could you take her a message, pony boy?" Now, he is smiling. I ask him for paper and pen and after some searching of pockets and an incredibly dirty bag I write my message on the backside of a flyer for a bike contest at Crash:

**"X5-452. I need your help. Tell EO that B should prepare the guest room. South Market, now."**

I hand Sketchy the note and he glares at it suspiciously. "What the hell is that supposed to say?" I do my best distracting laugh. "Max and I used to be fans of this TV Show, before the pulse, and they used this secret code. We talked about it at Crash, right before you..."

He interrupts me, obviously embarrassed. "I'll deliver it. Don't worry."

"And Sketchy? Please, could you hurry a bit? If Max was here in an hour, you'd be my knight in shining armor." With one last smile, I send him away. And he has no idea about the importance of this delivery. He didn't even ask why I wanted to meet her to return a jacket I don't have with me. _Bip-bip-bip, Sketchy_.

Wandering through South Market and taking a closer look at the vendors and their goods, I am careful not to attract the attention of sector cops, drug dealers, pickpockets, men, or mankind in general.

Half an hour after Sketchy's departure, I start to imagine how much easier it would have been to meet Bling, buying groceries for His Crankiness. I would have approached him, telling him that I wanted to speak to Logan and that I knew about...

Forty-five minutes after Sketchy's departure, I start to think about the possibility that being arrested by sector cops might result in an interrogation by Matt Sung. I would tell him that I wanted to speak to Logan and that I know about ... Things could be so easy, but I have to run into Sketchy. I decide to have faith in him.

An hour after Sketchy's departure, there's still no sign of Max. _I know you'll come, Max_. She won't be able to resist. Not with her designation and Logan and Bling mentioned in one message. _I know you'll come. I know it. I know..._

Suddenly, a shadow next to me moves and grips my arm so hard, I almost yell in pain. "Sshh! You scream, I make sure you're arm is broken!" I have never met someone who could whisper in exclamation marks. I nod, not saying a word. She is walking behind me and she leads me into the shadows near one of the main walls, my arms bent on my back, pushing me against one of the dirty, moist walls. The rough surface scratches my skin. "Spill it! Who are you and what do you want?" Her voice is furious and the brutality of her touch scares me.

"I'm a friend."

"A friend? How come I don't know you? Aren't friends people you know?"

"People like Kendra or Original Cindy?" That was a mistake. She inhales sharply and tightens her grip. The pain is overwhelming.

"How do know those names?", she hisses.

"Max, please, you're hurting me... I'm no danger... look at me... I just want your help ..."

"I don't believe you!"

"MAX, PLEASE!" I am crying now, tears in my eyes. "I'm not Manticore. I have a secret and I need your help." As her intuition seems to tell her that I'm right, she relaxes, at least enough to release my arms. I turn around and her beauty takes my breath away. Her face is perfect, her hair is perfect, her complexion is perfect, her body is ... even more than perfect. Now, I know why poor Logan is so self-conscious. This woman makes me feel like a naked mole-rat.

"Kay then, who are you and what do you know about me?"

"I know everything about you. And I know everything about Logan." Tension appears on her face. "And I don't want to harm either of you! I need your help."

"Help? Why?" Now it's time for the story I made up while I was waiting. I swallow. _Stick to the truth as far as possible_.

"I don't know how I got here. An hour ago I was on the bus back home in Germany. Now, I'm in Seattle!" _Stick to the truth_..." And I know all about you and your life and your friends, but I don't know why!" ... _as far as possible._

"Why should I believe this crap?" The expression on her face is scary.

"Because it is the TRUTH!" I can't control my tears anymore. "It's the truth. I can't leave South Market. I have no sector pass. No ID. No place to stay. I NEED YOUR HELP." Sobs are shaking me and can't look into her face. She won't believe me. She'll kill me. I wouldn't believe me, if I was Max. She'll kill me.

Max raises her arms and I close my eyes, waiting for strong hands to snap my neck, just like in "Pollo Loco".

She hugs me. Her arms are light and tender as they circle my shaking shoulders. "It's fine. I believe you."

Surprised I look into her eyes and see her empathy for a girl without a place to go and something more... as if she wasn't looking at me but someone else, in the very distance.

"I'll get you out of this bitch." she says with a smile.

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Dear reader, now it's time for the poll of the week:

I'm secretly in love with

A: Zack

B: Original Cindy

C: Sebastian

Don't worry! This IS an M/L story, but we need some kind of plot, don't we?

As always reviews and votes are welcome at FFN, DAR or tigrouangelweb.de


	3. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer**: Dark Angel belongs to James Cameron, Charles Eglee and probably FOX. Nevertheless, they don't deserve it.

**A/N:** It gave me a heart attack that 4 (!) people have me on their Author Alert list and one of them is the legendary Kyre! I hope I don't disappoint you! I bow to my alpha-beta **Lisa0316**. What would I do without you and our shared addiction? Thank you for beating the German out of my story. I also thank **Shywr1ter**, my beta-beta, for inspiring me and all the great and wonderful people at DAR, voting and supporting me and the great and wonderful people who reviewed the last chapter: antilope, mari83, bitemegirl388 and jebus89. This is a filler, but I hope you like it nevertheless.

**Through time, space and fiction - Chapter Two **

I wake up, suddenly and startled, finding myself sitting up in bed, the dream I had only a faint memory of soft lips and chocolate skin. _No, no, no – let me wake up in DA, please!_

My vision is blurry and it takes me some time to recall that even in my grandmother's house the walls aren't puce wood and milk glass. I lie back on a soft pillow, inhale the scent of the linen, and remember how I got here, the place to be, Logan Cale's guestroom.

**Flashback:**  
It's surprisingly easy to get out of South Market. All it takes is a wave with her Jam Pony passport and a grunted "Jam Pony messengers". The sector cops don't even look at us.

"You're lucky. Their shift'll end in about two minutes and they don't pay attention anymore."

Max is relieved and so am I. The prospect of swinging out of this on a rope, all Tarzan-style, has been on the back of my mind far too long. We pass the gate and she leads me to the Ninja, parked in the shadow.

"Shouldn't you have gotten here by bike?" I ask.

"Got your message and thought a little more pace would better. Just in case you were…"

"Manticore?"

"Trouble."

I can see it, the short look she gives me as I mention Manticore. She obviously doesn't like to be reminded of it, thus I try to direct her thoughts to a different – and far more interesting - topic.

"Where will you take me?" _Please, take me to Fogle Towers._

"Logan's place. You seem to know all about it anyhow. Wouldn't make much sense to take you anywhere else." _If_ _this is a dream, I don't want to wake up_.

We get to the Ninja and she tosses me the red helmet she stores under the seat. I mount it to sit behind her and hug her waist. It's my first ride on a motorcycle ever, and I'd prefer it to be my last. After a moment of agony I close my eyes and start to pray. By the time we reach Fogle Towers I'm covered in sweat and my legs feel like jelly.

"You okay? Your face's all green." She isn't sympathetic at all, her eyes are glistening with amusement, as we walk trough the foyer and reach the elevator. Waiting for the doors to open I steady myself at the wall.

"I'm fine."

We are silent all the way up to the penthouse, but it's a companionable silence. I can't think of anything to say to her while all my thoughts and hopes are directed towards meeting Logan Cale. Max is still in soldiers-do-not-speak-unnecessarily-on-mission mode, switching into cat-burglar mode by the time we reach Logan's apartment. She picks the lock to with practiced ease and we enter.

To say that it was overwhelming to be in here would be the understatement of the century. I can hardly breathe as I try to absorb the hardwood floor, the panelled walls and modern art. This place is so calming and strangely feels just like home. As I feel Max tense next to me, I turn around.

In the room next to us Logan and Bling are busy with Logan's physical therapy. At the sight of the most gorgeous man ever to draw breath on this planet, sitting on the examination table, shirtless and the toned chest shiny with sweat, I do what every girl would do in this situation. I faint.

**Now**:

While I look for my glasses, loud voices rise. The yelling probably explains my agitated awakening. I get up and step closer to the half-open door. It's a heated argument between two very familiar voices and it's about – me?

"How can you bring her HERE? And you don't even know her name! Max, did you go insane?"

"I thought you would want to talk to her!" Oh, Max is seriously pissed off.

"I could have talked to her at a safe house. Did you at least search her for bugs?" A short pause, time enough to shake a head reluctantly and then Logan's angry voice again: "MAX! How is it that you, a high trained genetically engineered killing machine, on the run for more than ten years, trust that kid without a second thought? WHY?"

Both Logan and I expect a streetwise, tough, and ironic reply, expect her to be "Max", but her voice is soft and calm.

"She has your eyes."

I take this as my signal to get closer and before Logan has time to reply, the surprise about her statement still visible on his more than handsome face, I stand between them, ready to face my fate. Both their heads turn around and Logan and I look into each others eyes with disbelief. And it's true. Our eyes are the same color – _Blue? Green? Gray? Who could ever tell?_ - and shape. For a second I wonder why I have never noticed that before. Max watches our wordless interaction with a little smile that expresses her "I'm always right" thought perfectly well. Logan is still silent and his hand scratches the back of his neck and we all know what that means, don't we?

"I'm Mia" I say with shaky voice and curse myself at the same time for my feeble attempt to resolve the silence. "I'm from Bavaria" _Did the Seattle air melt your brain, girl? What is that supposed to say? That you're from Bavaria?_ "I, I am…May I sit down, please?"

Two minutes later I find myself sitting on Logan's couch, telling them all about my arrival in Seattle.

"And then Max brought me here," I finish my story.

"And you have no idea why you know so much about us?"

"No" I slowly shake my head. _What should I tell them? That they're the stars of a TV show?_ Then I work up the courage to ask, "Can I stay with you? In the guestroom? I don't know what...where…" Suddenly I feel very small and lonely. I stare down on my hands.

"Of course, you can. It would be too dangerous to have you anywhere else." I look up. _Oh, it's a strange feeling to see your own eyes smiling in another person's face._ Max rises from her seat next to me and walks into the kitchen.

"As it looks like I'll have to share my meal ticket from now on, why don't you get over here and treat your harem with a culinary miracle?"

Our laughter exorcizes the last remains of tension between us. Logan cooks while I try my best to help him, and Max sits on the counter and supervises us. Logan tells us a funny story about his trip to Italy when he was eighteen and we laugh. _I could so get used to this._

"And now you know all about me, the chicken, and the garlic. Max, could you set the table?"

The dinner is delicious, every bite a miracle. I haven't finished eating when Logan gets serious again. He scratches the back of his neck when he starts to speak. "About your identity, I have thought about it for an hour and I think if you are going to live here and all, and the eyes thing… Would you mind being my little sister?"

I stare at him, my mouth wide open.

He continues, "Father had a German secretary, you know. She went back to Germany in 2000. And my father was, well, he liked to work with his staff on a very personal level. So… nobody would be surprised if you… and the eyes."

Before I go to bed, I take a look at the wonderful fake ID of Mia Cale, born the 6th of June, 2001 on the nightstand and remember Max's promise to help me with buying clothes the next day, and maybe Original Cindy will join us. _Soft lips and chocolate skin_. I fall asleep.

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Teaser:

_I hide behind the door and hear Logan's voice: "You wanna listen to whatever pie-in-the-sky Dr. Feelgood is hustling, be my guest. Just leave me out of it, okay?"_

Dearest reader, can you forgive me that I don't include a poll this time? Instead, I promise a great chapter 3! With ACTION! And if you want to torture me, just visit my thread at the Writer's Guild of DAR and give me a challenge. I'll try my best.


	4. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, and this is just for fun. Give the money to James Cameron, Mr. Eglee and Fox.

**A/N**: Tiny plot, no action, but a perfect excuse to watch Prodigy and think "Hey, it makes much more sense that way". At least, I hope so. And a new poll!!!

Enjoy, review and vote!!

** Through time, space and fiction - Chapter Three  
**

The following morning I woke up covered in sweat, and I refused to open my eyes until I recognized the faint scent of cedar wood and heard the soft sound of Logan's wheels on the hardwood floor. After I assured myself that my ID was still on the nightstand, I put on my glasses and left the guestroom, careful and strangely self-conscious.

Logan was in the kitchen, busy preparing breakfast and a mug of black coffee was steaming in front of him. He looked up when I entered the room, a smile on his face, but I could see that either our peaceful evening hadn't managed to erase his doubts about me or that they had returned during the night. His eyes were full of suspicion and tension. _Great, just what I need, another round of distrust and questioning._ Logan's voice was affectedly friendly as he addressed me. "Hey, want some coffee?" I shook my head and tried to smile despite of my nervousness.

"Not a coffee person. But could I get something to eat before the interrogation starts?" He nodded and handed me a plate. We ate in silence and we did the dishes in silence, both of us trying to delay the dreaded moment as long as possible. After he had stored the last plate, Logan pivoted and faced me.

"So…"

"So?"

"So, spill it! Who are you, where are you from, and who sent you?"

I sighed. "I already told you. I'm Mia, I'm from Bavaria, and as far as I know, nobody sent me to do anything. I'm here. That's all I know"

"That's all you know? And what about the 'I know everything about you' speech you gave yesterday?"

"Okay. I know that Max is a transgenic or as you called her once 'a genetically enhanced killing machine'. Not the sweetest compliment in the world, by the way. I know that she grew up at a place called Manticore, in Gilette, Wyoming, and that she and eleven of her so called siblings escaped in February of 2009. She works at "Jam Pony", a bike messenger service. Her roommate's name is Kendra."

"I know that you're Logan Cale and that you spend your time with saving civilization as we know it by exposing criminals as the mysterious 'Eyes Only'. I know that you were married to an alcoholic named Valerie and that your uncle Jonas calls you 'Junior'. I know that you were shot in the back about four months ago and your spinal cord was severed. The level of your injury is T-8. Right now, you're waiting for Bling, your PT-bodyguard-confidante-whatever, to torture you with therapy and wise words about patience."

My voice had become faster and faster, just like the expression on Logan's face had changed from distrust to startled surprise as I mentioned Valerie, his uncle, and finally, Bling.

"How do you know I'm waiting for Bling?"

"Because you are wearing your grey Che Guevara shirt. And matching sweatpants. You always wear them during your exercises. And don't ask me how I know that. I just do."

He looked up to me, just as confused and unnerved as I felt.

"But there has to be a reasonable explanation for all this."

"Logan. If you can find a reasonable explanation why one moment I'm in Bavaria in 2007 and then in Seattle in 2019, only a second later, I will be very grateful." It took a moment for my words to sink in, but then he looked at me like I was a four-headed pink goat.

"2007?"

I nodded slowly and tried a little smile. "Born in '87. I'm actually a year older than you."

He just stared at me.

"Maybe you should talk to Sebastian? And please stop looking at me like. You had no problem with Max being half female, half feline. You're a cyber-crusader, for God's sake. There are so many strange and inexplicable things in your world. Why shouldn't I be the time-travelling, semi-omniscient first person narrator?"

Logan seemed to ponder my words for a moment. "Yeah, that's strange, but… I mean, who believes that the government secretly creates super soldiers should be able to believe in time-travelling as well. And I'll talk to Sebastian."

He still didn't understand, but obviously he tried to.

The relief washing through me was beyond words. He **wanted** to believed me. _He probably grew up with X-Files, too. People who watch Sci-Fi Show **do** believe the strangest things_.

That was the very moment Bling entered the penthouse, the expression on his face priceless. And what was he supposed to think? Logan in workout clothes and me still dressed in one of his old shirts and shorts.

"Ah…Good morning?" Bling said with an inquiring look towards Logan. I stood up and smiled sheepish. _Oh God, that man is tall. And what a tight shirt…_

Logan cleared his throat and tried to mend the damage: "Bling, this is Mia. She's…"

While Logan was desperate to find an explanation for my existence, I stepped forward and took Bling's hand to a firm shake. "I'm his half-sister. And you have to be Bling."

"Oh. Nice to meet you, Mia. Didn't know you had a sister, man."

"Well, I didn't know myself 'til yesterday." While Logan was uncomfortably shifting in his chair, Bling's eyes wandered from me to Logan and back to me. Yes, he was noticing the eyes, just like Max.

I did my best to look cheerful "That's what wealthy socialites do. Keep their illegitimate children a secret. But maybe in our case secrecy is a family thing." _Perfect! Explained where I come from and implied that I know about Eyes Only._

"She is going to live with me for some time." _Oh Logan, don't be so stiff! _ I turned around and walked back to the kitchen counter. "So, Bling…how about a cup of tea?"

While the guys were busy with Logan's therapy, it was my task to archive the evidence from old Eyes Only cases. There was a little room in the back of the penthouse stuffed with video tapes, files (which surely hadn't found there way in there by legal means), and tons of pictures. Logan laughed when he showed me this chamber of secrets and gave me detailed instructions about how to sort everything. We were going to transfer everything to a safehouse once I finished, and I was glad to be helpful at least for a short time.

Max snuck in around lunchtime and brought me some clothes. They were simple long sleeved shirts in pale colors, white, light blue and green, and two pair of dark blue jeans. Her transgenic eye had estimated my size perfectly. She stayed for lunch and I watched Logan trying to sit a little straighter in his chair, talking about the recent Eyes Only case with much more passion than he had done with Bling just thirty minutes ago. I saw Max's dark eyes following every movement of his hands and I quietly listened to their conversation. Again I was overwhelmed – this time not only by her perfect looks but also by her intelligence. _You knew all this before. Why does it still surprise you?_ She left after an hour to return to her Jam Pony duties, whirling out of the door with a promise to take me to Crash and introduce me to the Jam Pony crew someday soon, and Logan and I stayed behind and tried to recover from her sparkling presence.

The next few days that passed were quiet and uneventful. Max took me to a flea market and Break's little store and we bought all kinds of things a girl can't live without. I joked about her feline DNA and even Lydecker and I finally made her laugh. The simple fact that she had someone to talk to about all these things – someone other than "Mr. Serious Logan Cale" – made her more at ease in my company.

I was busy most days with my storage task, and Logan was in front of his computer. In the evenings he prepared dinner for four, a wise decision considering a certain genetically enhanced stomach, and then we waited for Max to show up. Most of the time she came, but sometimes she didn't. Those were the nights Logan worked on Eyes Only cases until dawn, and when Bling tried to lecture him about getting a fair amount of sleep the next morning, he always got bitter. But when she did come, he was all gracious host, and I retreated early to what was now officially "Mia's Room" to lie in the darkness and listen to their amicable banter while she slaughtered him at chess.

I wished those days would never end, and every night I dreamt of danger and loss and pain and of how I couldn't protect them.

On my seventh day in Seattle I got up, snuck to the bathroom and had a shower, trying to be extraordinarily quiet. Max hadn't been here the night before, and when I woke up at 3 a.m., shaking from a nightmare I couldn't remember anymore, I could still hear the low tapping of Logan's keyboard in the computer room.

When I got out of the shower and donned the pink bathrobe I had insisted on buying – I could never use Logan's old red one, too Max in _Pollo Loco_ – I heard a conversation in the living room. I suddenly had a very bad feeling in my stomach. I quickly wrapped a towel around my wet head and tiptoed into the hall, trying to overhear what Max and Logan were talking about in the other room. I oppressed my guilty conscious about eavesdropping – _TV show, remember? Millions of people have been eavesdropping!_ – and tried to get closer without drawing their attention. Hiding behind the door, I could hear Logan's voice.

"You wanna listen to whatever pie-in-the-sky Dr. Feelgood is hustling, be my guest. Just leave me out of it, okay?"

My head exploded. _Prodigy_…'_Oh, God, what should I do?_'

I ran into my room and fell on the bed, thoughts and fears spinning so fast in my head that I was afraid of getting sick. I had two possible choices. I could tell them about the hostage crisis at the Steinlitz Hotel or I couldn't. I could tell them about Lydecker or I couldn't. I could prevent Max from jumping off a building to save Logan like a beautiful dark angel would to save the one she loves, or not.

Not.

That moment on the bed, surrounded by shattered glass, was crucial. It was a pivotal time for Max and Logan and their love, and I would have rather burned in hell than destroy it. _And it turned out to be "all good - all the time", didn't it? And there are other ways to be helpful. _I tried not to think about the people that would die during Prodigy. _That's their destiny. Max and Logan and the Inner Circle. That's all that counts. If they don't have lines they don't count_

I slowly dried my hair and got dressed, then I joined Logan, who was reading a newspaper in the kitchen. He was still tense and I wondered if he hurt himself when he fell out of the wheelchair. _Maybe I should tell Bling about it_.

"Tea or coffee?" I asked. Logan's only answer to my innocent question was an indifferent grunt. "Tea then," I decided and reached up to look for the kettle on one of the higher shelves. Tea was Bling's and my domain.

"You should apologize, you know," I informed him. His eyes looked up from the censored article about a food-riot in Detroit, but only for a second. This time I earned myself an annoyed grunt and a frown. "She wanted to be helpful. There's nothing wrong with worrying about friends, is there?" I continued while I filled the kettle with water.

"And there's nothing wrong with me she should be worried about!" His sudden outburst didn't impress me. I looked at him steadily but silent, raised an inquiring eyebrow and started looking for the teabags. "Oh god, when did you turn into Bling?" he said and vanished in the computer room to prepare the credentials of Ms Rachel Glasser, Biotech Frontiers.

An hour later I came to look over his shoulder. "Nice. But you have an informant meeting later, so you better leave them with Bling."

"What about you?"

"I have an errand to run" _And I'm scared as hell._ He nodded and pressed the number of Max's pager on speed dial. When I left the penthouse I heard him saying, "Sorry, for getting pissy before," and I smiled at the elevator doors all the way down.

The Steinlitz Hotel was an impressive building, higher than I imagined. Fortunately, it was still in Sector Nine and I could walk there, although I got lost twice and it took me more than an hour. I walked through the lobby with the attitude of a wealthy European tourist and that, combined with my "expensive vintage" clothes – I wore my old 2007 ensemble - gave me enough credibility that no one even noticed me. Everyone in the lobby seemed to be attending the conference. I was surrounded by PhDs and doctors, journalists from obscure magazines like "The Monthly Gene Pool" and … a blond middle aged man._ Donald Lydecker, Genedyne._ _Oh,_ _Max. I'm so sorry to have forced you into this, but I know you'll make it_.

A bright smile and a ten dollar bill changing hands later, I was on my way to Dr. Tanaka's room. Having watched cat burgling Max several times, it was relatively easy to pick the lock, walk in, and get his laptop and all written notes I could find from the desk. When I was already at the door, ready to leave, I turned around and stole some towels and toothpaste from the bathroom, along with one of Jude's toys from the floor. Suppressing the thought of staying to try and catch a glimpse of Original Cindy, I started to walk home. I was no super hero and I would never kick the bad guy's ass – I would leave that to Max – but maybe I could offer some comfort in the cold.

Logan and Bling were already gone when I returned home, and I spent the rest of the day watching KJPK News Special Bulletin about the Steinlitz hostage situation and wishing with all my heart that my decision was right and that it was all good, all the time. My heart stopped beating for a second when the cameraman got a close-up of Logan and Max crashing through the hotel window. After that and with the knowledge that at least to that point everything had turned out right, I fell asleep. I woke up in the middle of the night and found myself curled up on the couch, the lights still on. Bling stood in front of me, Jude sleeping peacefully in his arms. "Seems like I have to give up my bed tonight?" Bling nodded and I took the child from his arms, silently wondering how that tiny six-year old could weigh that much, and carried him into my room. I tried my best not to wake him while I undressed him. After accomplishing that, I put the little dinosaur into his arms. "Sleep well, brave little soldier."

I walked back into the computer room to look for Logan. Just that very moment Bling walked through to door, pushing Logan who sat in his computer chair.

_Time to solve another mystery_.

"Hey, what the hell happened to the wheelchair?"

"Gravity. Did you see what happened?" Logan pointed at the TV. I nodded. "Well, these guys were seriously annoyed that I got away and so they threw it off the building. Bling got the remaining pieces in the car, but I don't think they are of much use."

""Well, thanks to Max at least YOU escaped the laws of physics." He nodded.

Logan rubbed the back of his head and looked up to Bling. "Do we have to do this now?"

"Yes, we do." I suddenly realised that Logan was still wearing clothes that were covered with shattered glass. _They have to get him out of his clothes and check him for cuts. Don't make him feel uncomfortable, Mia. _"Do you want me to make some coffee? Tea?"

About half an hour later, Logan was settled in front of his computer, now wearing a clean sweater and pants, and Bling had gone to get a spare hospital wheelchair from the rehab clinic. I sat down on the floor in front of Logan, pulled my knees to my chest and indulged in the warm feeling of success. He looked down to me and smiled wearily.

After some time, I spoke quietly, not to spoil the peaceful atmosphere. "The child will stay with us?"

"Yeah. Until I've found him a new family. I don't have enough room here to keep all of you lost little puppies."

"As long as you keep the kittens. Or at least Max."

He nodded. His eyes were gleaming as I mentioned her name. Max. I did the right thing.

Smiling I stood up and after a moment of hesitation pressed a quick goodnight kiss on his forehead, before I went off to my room. Logan didn't move, but didn't turn away either.

In the doorframe I stopped. "Hey Logan, if Max comes over tonight tell her I have a present for her, okay? She'll get it when she takes me to Crash."

And then I left to comfort a little boy - or to share his nightmares – and still it was all good, all the time.

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Dear reader, the poll of the week - votes are welcome in reviews and at DAR- will either lead to a storyline and fluff in later chapters, a storyline and UST or ... pure fluff and no story. Your choice.

Our favourite cyber-crusader's birthday party is at

A: Crash

B: Max's and Kendra's place

C: Who cares? Just give me the fluff?

And many virtual and real bows to Lisa and Shy, who made this bearable for native speakers. Thank you!


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